


I do love you, but that's not the point

by Lisaeleonor



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PTSD John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 05:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisaeleonor/pseuds/Lisaeleonor
Summary: After returning from Afganiztan, John start teaching at university. Sherlock is a student that doesn't seem to fit in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is talk about PTSD and of druguse throughout this work.

John stood looking out on the student's filtering into the classroom. It was the usual assortment of people. Most of them young, mostly dressed in jeans and t-shirts carrying their computer bags over their shoulders. There was only one man standing out. First of all he was at least five- ten years older than most of the students, closer to John in age. Second he was dressed in dress trousers and a shirt that looked tailor made. Not that John had much experience in tailor made clothes. But he didn’t think clothes bought of the rack would fit that good. He looked a bit out of place in this environment and John found himself wondering why this man took this class. The man strode to one of the front rows and took the seat closest to the isle. Far away from any other student. He put his backpack down on the floor, a ragged thing that didn’t fit with his overall look. The man sat down, put both of his feet on the seat aswell, it looked terrible uncomfortable for a man his size. But he sat this way the whole lecture. It was the second time John held this course and he felt he did a good job. It wasn’t his first choice of job. But when he came home from the war in Afghanistan with a gunshot wound to his shoulder and ptsd, there wasn’t much else to do with his medical training. He was a trauma doctor but couldn’t stand the pressure in an emergency-room. He could get a panic attack trying to ride the subway in rush hour. When faced with the choice of teaching or taking a job at a health center, he had found the idea of teaching a bit less boring than treating people with the snivels. To his surprise he had found out that he rather enjoyed it. He had gotten some friends at the university as well. He didn’t see himself doing this for the rest of his life. But as long as he woke almost every night with nightmares and had to avoid crowded places he thought this was the right place for him. His first lecture for the semester was really basic. Since the man in shirt was sitting up in front, John had him in his line of vision. He sat motionless, not taking any notes or didn’t seem to move at all in the one and a half hour John spoke. It made John feel nervous, he felt more watched than he normally felt during a lecture. Some students stayed after the lecture to ask questions about the coursework but not this man. He strode out of the room as soon as the lecture ended, not looking at anyone. It continued the same way for a couple of weeks. The man would sit in the front, curled up in his chair, and walk out as fast as John stopped talking. He never took any notes, but he got the highest grade on the assignments. John was intrigued. He tried to tell himself it was more than the man’s looks. He was gorgeous even though he was too thin but there was more than that. He had those eyes that seemed to pierce through John and pull the information out of him. Sometimes he got the feeling that the man, Sherlock Holmes was his name, didn’t listen to a word he said. Instead he just sat and observed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is talk about PTSD and druguse throughout this work.

John was walking to his office a monday afternoon when he saw his mysterious student standing waiting for him. He was even taller than John had thought, he towered a good five inches above John. He looked nervous, shifting his footing every other second. He quickly eyes John before diverting his eyes. His hand that took John’s was sweaty but he hold on a moment to long, glancing down at John as he did.  
"Sherlock Holmes" he said shaking John’s hand.  
"John Watson" John said and opened the door to his office. He wondered what had prompted this man to seek him out, he clearly didn’t want to be there.  
John’s office wasn’t quite like the other staffs. His desk had been standing in the middle of the room with the back towards the windows when John got the room. He had quickly moved it so he was sitting with his back against the wall instead. He knew he was being silly, noone was going to attack him through the window. But this was the only way he could concentrate. Sherlock didn’t seem to notice. He walked in and stopped in front of the desk, fidgeting with his backpack. John sat down, thinking that it might make Mr Holmes more at ease.  
"Please, sit down" he indicated the chair opposite the desk. Mr Holmes sat down but started to bounce his leg as soon as he sat down.  
"So, what’s your problem?" John said, trying to sound interested and professional.  
His heart was beating harder than it should. There was something with this man, John felt drawn to him.  
"I, um, need some help. I have a hard time concentrating in your class and I’m falling behind." He looked up at John with longing in his eyes.  
It threw John of, the only other time he had seen that look on someone's face was the girls that had had a crush on him when he was a soldier.  
"Well, your results are great so I don’t think you need to worry." John spoke calmly, trying to catch the man’s eyes.  
If Mr Holmes had a crush on him, then John had to stop his eying on him at once. He wasn’t going to give the poor man hope.  
"I was still wondering, um… If I can spend some extra time in the practice-lab? I think it would help."  
"Can I help you with your concentration issue, is it something special?" Mr Holmes looked up at him alarmed, pink colouring his cheeks.  
"No, no, there’s nothing you can do there. I just need to practice more." John felt for the man. He wasn’t supposed to but he took out his card that gave him access throughout the school. And handed it to Mr Holmes.  
"You can borrow this. I’ll be here two more hours but then I need it back." The student took it, flashing a fast smile that to John seemed a bit out of character. Then he stood up.  
"Thanks, Mr… I mean Dr Watson" he stole another look at John before he walked out of the room.  
John sat still for a while, fighting the feeling of dread in his stomach. He was in trouble. His small infatuation with Mr Holmes had gone from a small irritation to a bigger problem, especially if it would affect a students grade. He waited impatiently for Mr Holmes to come back. He came on the second two hours after John had last seen him. John had started to pack up his things with nervous glances towards the door. He stepped just inside the door and held his hand out with the card in it. John walked up to him and took the card.  
"Did it go okay?" He said. Mr Holmes nodded, his eyes looking around the room, not fixating on anything.  
"Are you going home?" Mr Holmes asked as John put his card back in his wallet. He nodded his answer.  
"Do you… hm… do you…"John looked at the stuttering man in front of him, feeling pity.  
"Doyouhavetimeforacoffee?" Mr Holmes asked fast. He met John’s gaze for a second and then looked away again.  
"I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr Holmes." John felt bad for letting the man down.  
"But you can come back and borrow my card again if you need to" John said, feeling like he needed to soften the blow. Sherlock nodded and left without a word.


	3. Chapter 3

When John came to work the following day he was greeted by his boss. He didn’t look too happy and John tried to remember everything he had done the last week, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. His boss only spoke to him when something was wrong.  
"Dr Watson" he said falling into step with John.  
"Mr Andersson" John said continuing walking towards his office.  
The walked in silence until they were in John’s office and he had closed the door.  
"There has been a theft in the morgue, someone stole some livers." John looked in silence on Mr Andersson, not understanding why he spoke to John about it.  
"The only thing different yesterday from other days was that your keycard was used accessing the morgue. Why were you there?"  
"The little git" he muttered under his breath. Mr Andersson looked startled at him.  
"A student borrowed my card yesterday, he said he was going to study in the practice lab. I’ll talk to him Mr Andersson." John felt utterly embarrassed.  
"This is a serious offence, I’m counting on you to take this serious."  
"Sure" John said. In his mind thinking of what he was going to say to Mr Holmes when he got a hold of him.  
When Mr Andersson left John looked up Mr Holmes phone number. It was easy, Sherlock Holmes wasn’t exactly an ordinary name. He got to voicemail and recorded a message stating that he wanted to speak to him as soon as possible. An hour later there was a knock on his office door. A tall man in a tailored suit was standing in his doorway. He had an umbrella in his hands, he tapped it onto the doorframe. John rose from his chair, stepping out in front of his desk.  
"Dr Watson" he said extending his hand.  
"I know" the man said, shaking John’s hand. He had a firm handshake.  
"And you are…?" The stranger smiled a little smile that reminded John of someone. He couldn’t figure out who.  
"Mycroft Holmes, I believe you have made the acquaintance of my brother?" John took a step back. Had Sherlock sent his brother to speak on his behalf, what grown up did that?  
"Yes I have" John answered slowly. Mr Holmes nodded. He must be the older brother John thought. He looked older and a younger brother wouldn’t try to save his older brother, right?  
"I heard he was in a bit of trouble" Mr Holmes said and sat down in the chair opposite the desk. The one Sherlock had sat in the day before. John remained standing. He didn’t trust this man and his instincts told him to not place Mr Holmes between himself and the door.  
"He is, but I think I should take it up with him in person instead of talking to you. Your brother seems old enough to fend for himself." Mr Holmes turned around with a knowing smile on his lips but didn’t in any other way acknowledge that John remained standing.  
"Do you have any siblings Dr Watson?" John nodded.  
"An older sister" he said.  
"Then you don’t know how it is to be an older sibling, you never get over the responsibilities. Especially when you have a brother like Sherlock. Pray, what did he do this time?" Against his own judgement, he seemed to lose it when dealing with either of the Mr Holmes, John answered.  
"He stole some bodyparts" Mr Holmes smile widened at that.  
"Of course he did, and what are you going to do about it?"  
"I’m going to expel him of course, stealing is seen as an grave offence." Mr Holmes nodded and rose from his chair.  
"Then I’m obliged to tell you that if you do you will find compromising photos of children on your computer. The kind of pictures that will give you a long stay in her majesty's prisons." The anger flaring up in John made him blush.  
"What the hell, are you threatening me?"  
"You seem like a man of average intelligence, what do you think?" Mr Holmes spoke with the same even voice he had done since he came. He could just as well be speaking about the weather.  
"I think you should leave" John said through gritted teeth. He felt an urge to punch this man in the face but he thought that he might be out of a job if he did.  
"I’ve said what I had to say, goodbye." Mr Holmes raised his umbrella as a wave and walked out of the room.  
"And by the way" Mr Holmes leaned back into the room.  
"I’ll be talking to your boss as well. Goodbye."


	4. Chapter 4

John stood motionless for a while, wanting to make sure he was well gone before he fell into his chair and drew a sigh of relief. He drew his laptop closer to the edge of the desk. He thought he just as well google Mycroft Holmes to see if there was any weight in his threats. Several minutes of frustrating searches didn’t prove much. The older Mr Holmes wasn’t on any social media. The only things John could find was passing mentions in different papers. He seemed to be working for the government, but not in a very high position. That didn’t calm John, maybe he had connections higher up? He was interrupted by another knock in the door. This time it was the younger of the Holmes brothers.   
You wanted to see me, Mr Holmes said, leaning against the doorframe. For a second, John let himself think about how good he looked in the light shining in from the window. Then he pushed the thought aside and focused on his role as a teacher.  
Yes, please come in and close the door. Sherlock did as he was told. The nervousness from yesterday was gone. He looked as calm as his brother had done before. John started to suspect that he had been more fooled that he had first thought.   
You didn’t go to the practice lab yesterday, he said to a still standing Sherlock. He pursed his lips, like he was fighting a smile.   
No, I didn’t. John felt anger rising in him, he tried to suppress it, keeping his cool.   
What did you do instead?   
Your tone suggest you already know. I don’t know why you want me to repeat it? Sherlock looked bored. It made John close his hands on the edge of his desk to fight the impulse of shake some sense into the man.   
I want you to tell me how much you lied about yesterday, something flashed in Sherlock’s eyes and he sat down in the chair eying John.   
You’re not mad about the theft, you’re mad that I tricked you, he said.   
Fascinating. He leaned forward looking at John with keen interest.   
You made me think you wanted to date me, you fooled me into giving you my keycard, you stole from the university, this is a serious matter. I could have you expelled. John left out the bit about Mycroft’s threat. He wanted to make Sherlock understand the seriousness of the matter, he seemed to enjoy himself way too much at the moment. It seemed to work, the smile on Sherlock’s lips faltered.   
You’re going to expel me? He said in a flat voice.   
I haven’t made up my mind yet, I wanted to let you argue your case.   
It was only one lie, I only lied about going to the lab. Everything else was true. And no one was using those livers anyway. Sherlock leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.   
So you’re telling me that you actually asked me out? John stared disbelieving at Sherlock.   
Of course I was, why wouldn’t I? John shrugged his shoulders.   
I don’t know, it was quite a trick, trying to flirt with me to get me distracted and get my card. It obviously worked. John felt he started to blush. He was embarrassed at how easily Sherlock had duped him. He understood now that the whole nervousness from yesterday was just an act.   
I’m telling you it wasn’t a trick, Sherlock sounded a bit annoyed now.   
So you actually asked me on a date?  
Yes  
Why?  
Because I like you, Sherlock opened his mouth to say more but John cut him off.   
You like me?  
Yes I’m in love with you, but let's focus on what's important now. Sherlock kept on talking, about why he had stolen those body parts. John didn’t listen, he just looked at Sherlock. How could he just say something like that and then just keep on talking about else.  
I think it’s important, he said, interrupting Sherlock's tirade.   
What? Sherlock broke of his tirade.   
That you are in love with me? John answered.  
You do? Sherlock looked at him with surprise in his eyes. It looked genuine but John had learned his lessons, he didn’t trust those eyes.   
Of course I do, don’t you?   
No I don’t. Sentiment is unimportant. Can we just focus on why you shouldn't kick me out of your course.   
I won’t kick you out, your brother saw to that, John said dryly. He could see Sherlock straightening up at once.   
What did he do? He said with venom in his voice.   
He threatened me, said he could put incriminating pictures on my computer if i didn’t let you stay. But if you were any other student you would be out from this university at once. Stealing body parts, I have never heard about anything like it.   
Well, you never met me before. Sherlock smiled, looking deep into John’s eyes.  
John realised that that fumbling flirting he had experienced yesterday was just for show. This was the real thing and it was, frighteningly enough, hard to withstand. But Sherlock’s smile didn’t last and John found himself disappointed.   
Mycroft can’t keep away. It was his idea I took this class in the first place. He thought keeping busy would keep me from using. Sherlock had started pacing. John stood motionless, this conversation was rapidly spinning out of any sort of control.   
Using? Sherlock stopped and actually looked a bit embarrassed.   
Yes, drugs, mostly cocaine. I have been clean for three months. He started pacing again, avoiding meeting John’s eyes.   
So a former drug addict stole body parts with my card and I’m supposed to let you stay on the course because otherwise a lower worker in the government will put pictures of children doing god knows what on my computer? John could see the corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitch in a suppressed smile.   
That pretty much sums it up yes. There was so much John wanted to ask about, but he didn’t know where to start, or what kind of answers he wanted.   
Okay, see you tomorrow morning at class then Mr Holmes, he said and opened the door for Sherlock. He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Sherlock’s face. But then he looked as collected as ever when he strode out of John’s office without a backward glance.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, John first though Sherlock had stopped visiting his lectures. He was not sitting in his usual spot in the front. But then John saw him sitting in his usual position in the back of the auditorium instead. He briefly met John’s gaze and it was John that had to look away. He had lain awake most of the night thinking about what Sherlock had told him. He didn’t know what surprised him the most, that Sherlock was a recovering drug addict or that he was in love with John, both seemed so unlikely. It got even more complicated when he had do admit to himself that he was well on the way of falling for Sherlock himself. That relationships between students and teachers was forbidden felt like the least of his problems. Sherlock’s meddling brother and his druguse felt like more pressing concerns. And John wasn’t even sure Sherlock wanted to pursue a relationship even if John wanted to. He hadn’t said anything like it. It had seemed like Sherlock found the feelings for John a nuance, something to disregard. If that was the case, there was no use in John telling him about his growing feelings. It was by far John’s worst performance as a teacher, including his very first lecture. He stumbled on his words, forgot important bits. His students reminded him about others. He was sweating when it was over. He looked up to where Sherlock had been sitting but he was already gone. John sighed and started to put his notes into his bag. He was going to meet Molly for lunch. 

She was waiting when he entered the cafeteria, John had barely sat down when she spoke.   
What’s wrong? Sometimes John was grateful over Mollys’ knack of seeing through him, today wasn’t one of those days.   
You know those stolen bodyparts we all got emails about? He asked her.   
Of course I do, everyone is talking about it.   
Well… It was one of my students who stole them. Molly leaned back into her chair.   
Okay, did he or she give a good explanation? John realized he hadn’t even asked.   
I… I don’t know. I never got around to ask. He blushed.   
What did you do then? Is the student expelled without an explanation?   
No, he’s still here. I was going to kick him out but then his brother came for a chat and well… now he is staying. Molly sat up straight looking at John with big eyes.   
You’re saying his brother threatened you so his brother could stay at uni?   
If you put it that way it sounds really bad but yeah. Sherlock’s brother seems to have some bureaucratic superpowers. And I’m not sure I would have expelled him any way. It was partly my fault, I gave him my card. John felt he was making a bad job out of explaining his thoughts the last couple of days.   
And that you’re on first name base with this student has nothing to do with him staying? John blushed, you could not slip things past Molly.   
God I hope not.


	6. Chapter 6

Iraq or Afghanistan? John was sitting writing at his computer when he heard a voice from his open doorway. He looked up, Sherlock was leaning on the doorframe. John took a second to take in the beautiful human standing there. He had another one of those shirts who looked like they were made for him and his hair looked like he had been out in the wind, it fell in curls into his eyes. Those eyes he couldn’t pinpoint the colour of. Yesterday they had looked grey, now they looked green. John mentally shook his head, he had to stop this.   
What? He asked and saw a faint smile on Sherlock’s lips.   
Iraq or Afghanistan? Sherlock said once more. It was what John had thought he heard but he didn’t understand what it meant.  
What do you mean?   
Did you serve in Afghanistan or Iraq? John looked nonplussed at Sherlock who was still smiling, apparently enjoying John’s confusion. How did he know? John never spoke of the army to his classes, he was afraid they were going to ask questions that was going to trigger something.   
How did you know i served? He asked, realizing at once he had answered Sherlock’s question without meaning to. Sherlock’s smile widened. He straightened up and strode into John’s room, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk.   
You’re a trauma doctor who is teaching, not a very exciting work if you trained to take care of accidents. You have a psychosomatic limp and probably ptsd. You’re clearly military, it shows in the way you conduct yourself and the order you keep on your things. You have a poppy on your bag and it’s not season for wearing them. So where do a army doctor get ptsd at this time? Iraq or Afghanistan? John reluctantly admitted he was impressed. He sat quiet for a moment, wondering what he would say.  
Afghanistan, he said finally. Sherlock smirked. He leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his neck. The buttons in his shirt straining. Once again, John thought that Sherlock was good at flirting. If this wasn’t flirting he didn’t know what was, and it was working. He forced himself to look away and met Sherlock’s eyes instead.   
Why are you here? He asked. It seemed like Sherlock didn’t expect that question. Maybe his flirting didn’t go as well as he had thought.   
I thought you wanted me to, he said with a hint of insecurity in his voice.   
Sure I do but I didn’t think you wanted to. John hid his face in his hands.   
Listen to us, you make me sound like a lovesick fifteen year old.   
I don’t like feelings, Sherlock said after a while. John looked up at him. His brows were furrowed and he looked annoyed.   
They're messy and only complicates matters. I’m used to ignoring them.   
Yet here you are, John looked at Sherlock thinking. He was beautiful, there was no other word for it. He was bright and scary observant, and he seemed to have the emotional capacity of a five year old.   
I know, but I don’t know why. There is something about you, Sherlock said making John blush. He didn’t really know how to respond. Sherlock didn’t seem to expect a response either. He stood up and started walking to the door.   
Wait, John said, standing as well. Sherlock stopped and turned around.   
Those feelings you talked about yesterday, John started, swearing to himself because he was so bad at talking about feelings. Sherlock didn’t help him. He just stood there motionless.   
Do you want to know what I feel or do you want me to just forget about it? Sherlock met John’s gaze but didn’t speak. They stood so for what seemed like ages for John.   
I don’t know, he said finally and then turned around and walked out of the room. John sat down, weak in the knees.


	7. Chapter 7

Why did you need those livers anyway? John asked looking up from his computer.   
It had been two weeks since Sherlock had asked if he could stay in John’s office from time to time. That had apparently meant that he would show up almost every day, pace around John’s office or sit in the chair facing John and stare out into the air. He rarely spoke, just muttered under his breath sometimes. John had the feeling that this was what Sherlock did at home and now he had just moved location to John’s office. He didn’t seem aware of John most of the time. John didn’t say it out loud because he didn’t want to make Sherlock stop coming but his presence made it really hard for John to concentrate. It was even worse the days Sherlock didn’t show up, then he just sat staring at the door waiting. Now he was giving into his urge to ask Sherlock questions instead of grading papers.   
Oh, for an experiment. Sherlock said, not slowing his pacing down. John thought he could grow real tired on Sherlock’s habit of only answering just the question he was asked and not the one that was implied.   
What kind of experiment? He asked patiently watching Sherlock move.   
I was testing how fast a liver disintegrates when doused with acid.  
What? John’s voice rose without him wanting it. He was grateful Sherlock had started to close the door as soon as he entered John’s work room. Sherlock stopped and looked at John, he didn’t seem to think that was an odd response.   
Murderers sometimes tries to hide their crimes with acid. It makes it extremely hard to pinpoint time of death.   
Wait what? Why are you trying to figure that out? You’re not a police. Sherlock sighed.   
I’m a consulting detective, he sighed once more and sat down when he saw the look on John’s face.   
Sometimes, well most of the time, the police finds it hard to solve even the easiest crimes and then they need help. I help them.   
The police don’t ask civilians for help, John answered. Sherlock just smiled.   
I’m not a civilian, I’m a consulting detective.John rolled his eyes.   
Why are you here then, why do you take this class if you have a job as well?   
I told you, Mycroft is worried I’ll start using if I get bored. Sherlock said this with such ease. John would have thought he would be a bit embarrassed about this fact.   
So you’re a drug addict? He asked, more to get a reaction than anything else. Sherlock rolled his eyes.   
I’ve told you that weeks ago, you’re not stupid John. I used cocaine, almost died and now I’m clean.   
What? John exclaimed again, staring at Sherlock.   
CO-CA-INE, Sherlock said slow and loud.   
You OD? John asked, trying not to get mad at Sherlock’s answer. This man is infuriating.   
Yes, Sherlock said simply. John looked at him, trying to get him to elaborate but he wouldn’t budge.   
No wonder your brother is keen on keeping you busy then, John said after a while silence. Sherlock smiled at that and John’s heart skipped a beat.   
Mycroft likes to feel needed, I think I would stay clean anyway but this course has it’s merits.   
The twinkle in his eyes told John what Sherlock was talking about. His heart skipped another beat and he felt like this thing between him and Sherlock was bound to cause heartbreak for his part.


	8. Chapter 8

John had lunch again with Molly the following day. She came late and was blushing when she sat down.   
I just ran into your special student in the hallway, she said giving John a long look. John tried to keep a straight face but he felt sometime like dread at the thought of what Sherlock had said to her.   
Okay, so what did he want? He said casually and tried to put food in his mouth to feign indifference.   
He wanted access to the lab, I saw no reason to deny him.   
But mind you, I’ll keep my eyes on him, Molly continued when she saw that John was about to object.   
I’m not gonna let him take one of the microscopes home, I’ve learned from your mistakes, she smiled to take the edge of the words. John tried to smile back but it was more of a grimace.   
But really John, you should have told me how good looking he is. So I was prepared. It would not have been easy saying no if I had wanted to when he looked at me with those eyes. Or you maybe didn’t notice? John opened his mouth to answer but the only thing that came out was laughter. Sherlock’s eyes, his whole presence followed him in his dreams. Not noticing was so far of the mark it was hilarious.   
Oh Molly, he said drying his eyes.   
What did I say? Molly looked surprised. John felt he had to tell someone.  
I’m in love with him, he said with the feeling of falling of a cliff. When he saw Molly’s stunned face he realised he never told her he was gay. Her surprise could not just be from him being in love with Sherlock, she just commented on his looks.   
So you’re… Okay, and he is? Molly stammered.   
Yes and yes, John said. Molly nodded, her thoughts seemed to wander.   
So that’s good right? She said after a while.   
I guess you’re not supposed to date students but it seemed like your Mr Holmes’ older brother could see to that if it would pose a problem. He had saved his brother before.   
Yeah guess so, John really wasn’t that bothered with that rule. There were other things more worrisome, that brother being one of them.   
So what’s your problem then? John explained how Sherlock had made his feelings clear and at the same time saying that they didn’t matter. And then how he continued to flirt with John but made no other move. Molly listen and asked questions. And when lunch was over John felt a little bit more at ease with himself. It made it easier to smile at Sherlock who was standing outside John’s office fiddling with his phone.   
Mr Holmes, he said unlocking his door and holding it open for Sherlock. Sherlock put his phone in his pocket and walked in, sitting down as usual.   
Dr Watson, he said as he walked past John. John closed the door behind him and sat down in his chair.   
You don’t need to call me Mr Holmes, Sherlock said almost at once. John was surprised, Sherlock usually didn’t speak at all when he was in John’s office. And if he did it was usually because John had asked him a question.   
No I know, John said. He had guessed as much, since Sherlock called him John and had done since the first day. The fell into silence. John working, he didn’t know what Sherlock was doing. He looked like he was thinking hard but John had no idea what kept his mind occupied for so long.   
Sherlock, John said after an hour or so in silence. Sherlock was now looking through John’s bookcase. He turned around, a copy of Gray’s anatomy in his hands.  
You know this one is outdated right, he said holding up the book for John to see.  
It was a gift, I have another one as well, Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and put the book back.   
I need to ask you something, John said to Sherlock’s back. Sherlock didn’t turn around or speak but he had stopped picking out books so John guessed he was listening.   
I want to know what you want to do about us. You told me you were in love with me and you show up here almost every day but we haven’t spoken about it. Sherlock turned around and leaned against the bookcase. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.   
Isn’t it a bit unfair, you want to talk about my feelings but you haven’t told me about yours, he said after a moment's silence. John looked perplexed at him.   
Don’t you know? He said. Sherlock shook his head.   
How could I know?   
Well, you knew I’ve been to Afghanistan I just guessed you could see it on me, John said with a smile.   
See what? Sherlock said with a bit of sharpness to his voice.   
That I’m falling for you, John said. Sherlock didn’t respond. He didn’t show any sign of emotion.   
You are in love with me? He asked after a while looking John in the eyes. John nodded as a reply.   
So if I wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t stop me? Push me away or threaten to expel me again?  
I won’t be making that mistake again in a while, John tried to joke, hiding the nervousness he felt.   
Can I kiss you now? Sherlock asked. John opened his mouth but he couldn’t make himself speak. He had expected to be shot down, for Sherlock to tell him that it was to inconvenient for him to form any attachment and just leave.   
You need to tell me yes, I’m not good with seeing emotions in people. You need to tell me what you want. Sherlock’s voice was suddenly darker, it made goosebumps appear on John’s arms.   
Yes, yes you can kiss me, John finally manage to make a sound.   
Sherlock started to walk towards John, he felt that he suddenly had trouble breathing. He could feel his heart in his throat as Sherlock leaned into him, placing his hands on John’s armrests. Then Sherlock’s lips touched his. It had been a long time since John had kissed anyone, but that didn’t explain the rush of emotion that flooded his system. His mind went blank, the only thing he could think about was how right this felt. It didn’t feel strange at all, not even that awkward like first kisses usually did. The kiss deepened, John lightly pressed his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth who opened his lips willingly. He was still standing bent over John and he ended the kiss too soon in John’s liking. Sherlock leaned back, sitting on John’s desk.   
That was nicer than I expected, Sherlock said, his fingers brushing his lips. John felt a bit put of by the remark.   
What did you expect? He asked, shortly. Sherlock’s eyes locked in his. He seemed to be searching after something.   
I mean..., he said slowly.   
… that it looks a lot messier when other people do it. It took a moment for John to realise what Sherlock was saying.   
Do you mean that you’ve never kissed anyone before? He asked stunned. Sherlock shrugged.   
I haven’t found anyone I wanted to kiss before. It seemed like a waste of time. John tried to take this in and decide what it meant. He decided not to make a big deal out of it, following Sherlock’s lead.   
Well, do you want to do it again? He asked instead. Sherlock smiled, then he dropped to his knees. John stared, wondering what on earth Sherlock was thinking about. Blushing over the things he was thinking about when he saw Sherlock in his knees in front of him. His pulze that was already elevated started to race. His cock had started to grow hard and he willed it to stay down.   
Wha, what are you doing? He stammered.  
You’re too short, my neck hurts. This makes us more level, Sherlock said as he pressed himself in between John’s legs.   
It didn’t help John at all with his level of desire that was threatening to overcome him. But he sensed the logic in what Sherlock was doing. The man was so tall so he was now almost completely level with John. He leaned forward, feeling a bit unstable sitting at the edge of the chair, and kissed Sherlock again. It was even better the second time, Sherlock seemed to be a fast learner and the kiss quickly depend. John had his hands in Sherlock’s hair, pulling him closer. Sherlock’s hands roamed from his neck down to his bum. They only let go of the other ones lips for occasional gasps of air and John was feeling a bit lightheaded. His only thought was to keep Sherlock close, he could not get close enough. Sherlock seemed to think the same because he pushed John even closer to him. Which made John lose his balance on his office chair and he fell forward. The chair rolled away behind him and John felt onto Sherlock. His quick reflexes made him catch himself before he crushed Sherlock. But he was still sitting on top of Sherlock with his hands on either side of his head, who had his legs bend beneath him in an odd angle. They looked at each other in surprise, and then they started to giggle. Sherlock moved to untangle his legs but he didn’t attempt to get up. John tried to catch his breath. His erection was straining in his trousers and as he sat, he could feel Sherlock’s cock hard against him. It made him want to forget where they were, how inexperienced Sherlock was and just rip the clothes of him and fuck him every way possible. Instead he steadied his breath, relaxing the muscles that was strained with the desire of pulling Sherlock closer. He lowered his head and leaned his forehead against Sherlock’s. He closed his eyes and they stayed like that for a moment. Both of their breathing slowing down, echoing each other. John felt his desire being taken over by fondness. He really cared for this man lying beneath him. He barely knew him, but he felt connected to him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time if ever.   
I think I like this bit best, Sherlock said waking John from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and looked into Sherlock’s eyes that were so close he had difficulty focusing.   
What bit? He said, trying to understand the odd sentence.   
This bit, whatever you call it, Sherlock waved his hands round in the air. John sat back on his legs looking at Sherlock.   
You mean cuddling? He asked gingerly. Sherlock dragged himself to a sitting position. His shirt was a bit creased and his hair was messy but he didn’t seem to mind. He just pulled his finger through his hair, moving it away from his eyes.   
Yes, that’s the word.


	9. Chapter 9

John felt like he was walking on air the rest of the day and the following day. Molly just smiled over his glazed over eyes at lunch but didn’t ask much. He guess she could tell a lot by just looking at him. He felt like his lectures went great all of them. Even though he stole a lot of glances at Sherlock who was now again sitting in the front row in the lecture he attended. His mood increased when he saw Sherlock waiting outside his office door when he went there after his last lecture.   
Mr Holmes, John said as he opened the door grinning. Sherlock smirked.   
Dr Watson. He walked in before John, stopping at the middle of the floor. As soon John had closed the door Sherlock pressed him against it, seeking his mouth with his own. John’s whole body went rigid with panic. He had to get away, protect himself. He didn’t know where he was just that he was under attack and needed to defend himself. Distantly he could hear someone calling him. Someone called him John. That was odd, everyone in the military called him captain or Watson, never John. That detail made him come back to reality. He had Sherlock backed against the bookcase, his arm over Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock was pleading with him, his voice was low due to the pressure John was putting on his throat.John quickly released Sherlock, stepping away in horror. Sherlock was gulping in air, clutching his throat. He met John’s eyes. His eyes were full of surprise and a bit of fear. John was horrified. He had never hurt anyone else during his flashbacks. His back hitting the opposite wall and he slid down it, his legs trembling to much for him to stand. He could see how Sherlock straightened up, arranging his face so he looked calm and a bit concerned, the fear gone.   
I’m sorry John, I should have known, Sherlock said in a low voice. John shook his head. This was not Sherlock fault, could never be Sherlock’s fault. This was all on him. He had put Sherlock in harm's way.   
You need to go, he whispered to ashamed to meet Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock hesitated.   
John, he said beggingly but John didn’t look up. He was hiding his face in his hands, to embarrassed to look at Sherlock. He felt numb and tired. Like he never would be able to get up. He heard Sherlock move towards him and his body tensed, he clenched his fists. It seemed Sherlock could see this because he stopped, he stood still for a moment. Seemingly unable to decide what to do. Then he took a deep breath and walked away. He closed the door quietly behind him. John felt tears burning behind his eyelids at the sound and shut his eyes to stop them from falling. He had never felt more horrified or scared than now. In the war there had usually been something he could do, something to make his situation a bit better. And there had always been the thought that he was going home to keep his spirits up in dark times. But he couldn’t leave this situation. It was within him. He had just attacked Sherlock, a student and his maybe boyfriend. Could he continue teaching when he could snap anytime? He had thought he had it under control, but that had been wrong. And now he had ruined everything with Sherlock. He thought about how he had given Sherlock his first kiss yesterday, and how Sherlock had liked to cuddle. Would he dare to do that to anyone else now? When his first attempt had ended in him almost being strangled? John sat on the floor until his body ached from the uncomfortable position until it went numb. His mind kept going over the same questions over and over again. He startled when there was a knock on the door.   
Dr Watson, are you still there? I’m about to lock up. It was the securityguard. John cleared his throat before answering.   
Give me five minutes and I’m out of here. He said and tried to straightening up.   
Sure doc!  
John picked up his bag, put the light out and close his door behind him. He wondered if he could ever look at that door again without thinking about Sherlock, thinking about what John had done to him. 

John called in sick the next day, spending most of the day in his bed. He called his therapeut and got an emergency-meeting in the afternoon. But the next day when he walked into the lecture hall he wasn’t sure that had helped him at all. He started to sweat when Sherlock walked into the hall. He didn’t have any outward signs of John’s attack. Though John, more than anyone, knew that the deepest cuts didn’t show. He sat in the front row as usual. John could feel his eyes following him round as he walked addressing the whole body of students. He could not make himself look at Sherlock. He thought he would break if he looked at him. Was Sherlock angry, scared? Did he pity Sherlock? Saw him as an old, broken soldier? Sherlock expected perfection in himself, he would never be with anyone that was broken like John. John didn’t want Sherlock to want to be with him either. He could not risk hurting Sherlock. He had to unpack his bag to find his phone at the end of the lecture and didn’t realise Sherlock had stayed behind until he spoke.   
I’m sorry, Sherlock said. John startled. He had prepared a speech for Sherlock which started with the same words. It threw him for a loop. Did Sherlock say he was sorry or did he know what John wanted to say and beat him to it.   
Sorry for what? He asked, meeting Sherlock’s eyes for the first time this day. Sherlock rolled his eyes, sighing.   
For how I behaved yesterday of course, I shouldn't have cornered you like that. John looked at Sherlock in disbelief, did he actually think what happened was his fault?  
You have nothing to apologize for, this is all on me, he said, his voice straining from guilt rising in his throat.   
Obviously I have, Sherlock retorted.   
I knew about your PTSD and still put you in a situation that could trigger it. I should have realised being trapped by a much larger man could be frightening. John looked at Sherlock in disbelief,   
You were attacked, that could never be your fault, he said. He didn’t dare to move any closer to Sherlock. Even though shame was the most prominent feeling in him, he could still feel the urge to hug Sherlock, kiss him. He walked behind his desk instead, increasing the distance between them. Sherlock rose from his seat, walking towards John.   
Sherlock stop, John’s voice sounded more certain than he felt.   
You have no fault in this. I’m the one who’s sic, I’m the one who should know my boundaries and keep them. I’m clearly not well enough to start seeing someone. I’m sorry, I truly am but we can’t continue seeing each other more than these classes. Sherlock stared at him in silence.  
You’re serious? He asked after a long silence in which John had started to put his papers together.   
Of course I am, John looked up at Sherlock. Part of him wanted to say that he was not serious, that all he wanted was to be with Sherlock. But that wasn’t an option as long as he could hurt Sherlock. Sherlock scrutinized him.  
I don’t believe you, he said.   
Well you were the one saying that you had trouble seeing emotions in others, you just have to take my word for it, John said and moved out of his desk and into the isle. Sherlock followed him, careful not to come too close. John didn’t look at him, he just kept on walking. When they reached the door of the lecture hall, John let Sherlock out first before he locked the door behind him.   
\- Goodbye then, Mr Holmes, John was grateful that Sherlock was bad at reading emotions. Otherwise we would have seen John’s heart breaking. Instead he looked irritated and walked off without a word. John walked to his office, feeling more miserable than he had done in years.


	10. Chapter 10

A week passed, John had to drag himself out of bed in the mornings. Force himself to attend his lectures and not just hide in his office. Even though his office was only marginally better to be in than to be in the lecturehall. Sherlock was attending every lecture, not looking at John at all, but still being a clear presence in John’s mind. It felt like torture seeing him there and not being able to talk to him. He fled to his office as soon as he got the change, not wanting to run into Sherlock on the grounds. But his office held the memories of Sherlock. He had rearranged John’s bookcase in his liking and John hadn’t the heart to change it back. Even though he thought of Sherlock every time he glanced up from his computer and saw it. If he closed his eyes, he could see Sherlock standing in the doorway or sitting in the chair opposite John’s. It was a relief when the day ended and he could go home. It was the friday on the second week since the attack (the word John used for the incident) when John heard a knock on his doorframe. He looked up, feeling himself go cold and hot the same time as he saw Sherlock stand in the doorway.   
Hi, he manages to say. What on earth did Sherlock want? Did he need help steel more bodyparts? Maybe he thought John owed him to help now.   
Can I come in? The question was uncharacteristic, the only thing that gave John a hint that Sherlock was nervous. He looked calm, met John’s gaze without any hesitation. It was like nothing had happened between them.   
Sure, John said and looked on as Sherlock walked in and closed the door. He stayed by the closed door, keeping the distance between them. The sight made the lump of shame in John’s gut to grow.   
You’re miserable, said Sherlock in a matter of fact voice. John continued to look at him, trying to see any hint of emotion.   
Well, I hasn’t been the best of weeks lately, John said dryly. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the respons.   
I think you miss me, he said, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. John leaned back in his chair, drawing his fingers through his hair.   
I do, he said, not elaboration on the answer. It Sherlock could play that game, so could he.   
I do to, the blush on Sherlock’s cheeks grew more prominent as John looked at him. John could sense it was a big admission for a man who said feelings was to complicated and messy to deal with.   
We just have to give it some time I think, John said, trying to sound convincing.   
Why?   
You know why, John felt a bit annoyed. It wasn’t like Sherlock hadn’t been present when John attached him. He knew perfectly well why.   
No I don’t. You seem to have a notion that because you have issues you have to punish yourself for it. A bit of fire crept into Sherlock’s voice, he stood straight with his chin lifted, defiant.   
My issues as you put it almost got you strangled, said John between gritted teeth. He didn’t want to have this conversation, he wanted to be alone again.   
You stopped before I passed out right? Said Sherlock, John looked perplexed at him. Like that made it all better.   
You saw that I can’t be trusted, I can do that again, he said. Sherlock shook his head.   
I think you do, I trust you. John opened his mouth to object but closed it again. What could he say?   
Then you’re more stupid than I thought, he said before the silence could stretch. Sherlock draw in a deep breath.   
You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Why won’t you listen? Sherlock’s voice rose at the end of the sentence. He walked two steps towards John before he stopped himself.   
I won’t listen? John spat out, trying not to shout.   
You don’t listen when I say that I don’t want to see you anymore, you came here, he indicated the room with his hand.   
Because I don’t believe you, Sherlock shouted. He put his hands on John’s desk and leaned forward and spoke in a lower voice.   
I think you still want to be with me, and I want to be with you. The only issue is this notion of yours that I’m not safe. But I say I am. I have several inches on you, I train in martial arts. If you try to hurt me again I can defend myself.   
John’s head swam from all the emotions. He was angry at Sherlock, he wanted to push him out of his office and lock the door. The man was insufferable. Another part of him wanted to lean in and kiss him senseless. Without thought, he stood up and walked round his desk to stand in front of Sherlock who straightened up. He was right about the hight, he was a lot taller than John. But he was lean, to John it looked like he could break him like a twig. He intended to drag Sherlock out of his room. Showing with actions what he was trying to say and Sherlock wouldn’t listen to. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm, harder than he had to and started to pull him towards the door. Instead of following John’s tug at his arm, Sherlock leaned in. He placed a kiss on John’s lips, careful not to touch him in any other way. John’s anger mingled with his desire that flared up at that simple touch. He forgot everything about wanting to get Sherlock out of the office, or Sherlock’s inexperience. He showed Sherlock against the desk, stepping so close that Sherlock had to sit down on the desk as not to fall over. John grabbed Sherlock by the neck, deepening the kiss. This was ruffer than any kiss they shared before. Their teeth scraped against each other as John tried to get even closer, taste even more of Sherlock. He could hear Sherlock moan, his hands on John’s shoulders, hugging tight. John’s hand that wasn’t wrapped up in Sherlock’s hair was trying to unbutton Sherlock’s shirt. He got the two top buttons opened and placed his hand on Sherlock’s naked chest. Sherlock gasped, his hands pushing John away. He came to his senses. Embarrassed and frightened of the strength of his emotions. He was breathing hard.   
Sorry, he said, clenched his hands at his sides. He could still feel Sherlock’s skin under his fingers, he ached to touch him again. All his resolution was gone.   
It’s… I… Sherlock stammered, seemingly struggling for words. His chest was heaving and his cheeks were red. He took a deep breath before he continued.   
I liked it, I just… it’s too much at once. Sherlock took John’s hands in his, prying them open.   
Oh shut up, he said after glancing up at John, reading his mind. John was thinking that he needed to get Sherlock out of his office. Maybe he could take a vacation? He clearly couldn’t be trusted around Sherlock.   
But… John started, Sherlock sighed and kissed John to silence him. John stood motionless, fighting the desire that raced through him. Sherlock was holding his hands, laced his fingers with Johns. It was a sweet kiss, slow and exploratory. After a while John relaxed, he didn’t feel as angry any more and that made the arousal easier to deal with. He could savour the moment. When Sherlock picked up on the change in John’s posture he let go of John’s hans. Instead putting both his hands on John’s back, drawing him closer. He broke of the kiss and put his face against John’s neck. He made a sound of such content that John’s heart swelled. He put one of his hands on Sherlock’s neck, the other one at the small of his back. John felt a bit deflated. He wanted to protect Sherlock, plain and simple: he loved him and wanted to protect him. Instead he assaulted him, what he just had done must be seen as sexual harassment. Even though Sherlock said he liked it had he been forced to push John away, John had been that oblivious for the signals from Sherlock.   
Are you sure about this? He asked into Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock straightened up, looking John’s in the eyes.   
Do you love me? He asked, John nodded. His throat had swollen up again due to all the things he wanted to say. It was crazy talking about love after this short time, but he was sure.   
Okay, and I love you, so I see no reason why we shouldn’t try this out. I can’t make any promises. Most people find me annoying, I’m rubbish at taking feelings into account. I will probably hurt you on a regular basis. I’m easily bored, maybe I will grow tired of this in a week. But if you’ll have me I’m yours. John knew that it shouldn’t be but it was the most romantic thing someone had ever said to him.   
I’ll have you, he said, the words only a whisper. Sherlock smiled and clapped his hands together.   
Right then! He stood up and maneuvered himself out of John’s grasp and walked to the door. John just stared at him.  
Are you leaving? He asked. Sherlock turned around, he looked surprised.   
Did you want to say anything else?   
No but I… John felt more stupid by the second.   
I thought I made it clear to you that I’m not ready for any kind of intercourse so we can’t seal the deal so to speak. John blushed up to his hair.   
No, of course not, I understand. I just… I thought you could stay. Sherlock’s eyes softened. He walked upto John, placed on of his hands on John’s cheek and pulled him close to kiss him. John leaned his head back, wanting as much of a kiss as Sherlock would give him. He places his hands lightly of Sherlock’s hips, careful not to pull him.   
I have to go, I’m on a case and the clock is ticking. I really didn’t have time to come to see you at all. I just… I couldn’t concentrate when you were avoiding me. Sherlock gave John another quick kiss, then he walked out of the office without a second glance. John sat down on the desk, stunned. He wasn’t really sure what just had happened. Somehow he had gone from breaking up with Sherlock to being in an outspoken relationship with him. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out. “I’ll see you soon. X SH.”. John smiled, he got an x at least.


	11. Chapter 11

They started texting several times each day. John would be in class, feel his phone buzz and smile out of the blue. Molly commented on John’s change in mood, he couldn’t be bothered to hide it. Sherlock seemed to be busy, he only showed up in John’s lectures at the last minute and disappeared as soon as John finished. He texted John about his case, about a policeofficer he seemed to like but still irritated him, or just random observations. In between came texts were Sherlock would tell John that he missed him or things he wanted to do to John.Those texts usually came at night to John’s relief. Some things Sherlock said made him so aroused he had to wank to relieve the pressure. He had asked Sherlock when they could meet but only got “after the case” as response. Then one day when John was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to be alone with Sherlock again, a text that just said “221B Bakerstreet, 6 o’clock”. It made John’s heart skip a beat and he spent too much time picking out clothes. He wanted to look nice but he was unsure what he was going to. Was it a date? Were they staying at baker street? He took a cab, arriving ten minutes early. An older woman opened the door.   
Oh hi, you must be Sherlock’s friend. He said that someone would come. She stepped back and let him in.   
He’s just up the stairs dear, she said pointing up a stair in the narrow hallway.  
John thanked her and started climbing the stairs. He could hear classical music from the apartment above. He knocked on the door and the music stopped. Sherlock opened a door dressed in a purple shirt that was ridiculously tight over his chest. It made John’s mouth water.   
You’re early, he said as he opened the door. John stepped in to a nice apartment full off clutter. Every open surface was full of papers and books. Sherlock’s laptop balanced on the armrest of a sofa. At a small table at the door lay a violin.   
Was in you that played? John asked, he hadn’t imagined Sherlock as an man who liked music.   
Yes, I was just passing the time. Sherlock took the violin and put it back in his case. He turned around and looked at John. There was a brief moment when none of them spoke.   
So… what’s your plans for the evening? John said as he looked around.   
He wondered if Sherlock had read all the books he owned, there were a lot of them. Sherlock walked out into the kitchen, out of sight of John.   
I thought we might order take out and just hang out, isn’t that what people do? John smiled.   
Netflix and chill, he said.   
What did you say? Sherlock reappeared with two glasses of wine in his hands.   
Nothing, John blushed and took the glas without another word.   
Sherlock gave him a long look but didn’t say anything more.   
Have you read all of these books? John asked as the silence became tense.   
Of course, written a few, said Sherlock as he sat down in on of the armchairs on front of the fire.   
John sat down in the one opposite, eying the books with more interest.   
I solved the case, Sherlock stretched his legs out in front of him, taking a sip of wine. John got a bit distracted with how very long Sherlocks legs were.   
I figured, he said. Tearing his eyes away and meeting Sherlock’s eyes.   
Do you want to know how? John wasn’t really interested in crime solving. But if it would get Sherlock to speak he was up for anything. And to listen to Sherlocks deduction was nice, to get a glimpse inside that man's head. He leaned back and nodded to Sherlock who started talking in a fast pace. John wondered if he ever stopped for breath. Sherlock talked on his own for over five minutes. John got pulled into the story. When Sherlock had finished John was sitting with his arms on his knees, leaning towards Sherlock.   
So this is what you do? For a living? Sherlock nodded.   
I do, it’s more lucrative than you think. He rose and walked over to the kitchen.   
Do you want something to eat? Thai? Italian? Indian? He walked from the kitchen carrying a bunch of take away menyes. John laughed.   
Do you ever cook? Sherlock looked at him, surprised at the question.   
I rarely eat. My landlady usually makes something for me. John didn’t comment on that, he thought that there would be a later time that he could talk to Sherlock about taking care of himself. He didn’t want to do it on their first date, if this even was a date, he guessed so. Instead he rose, taking on of the folders Sherlock was holding. He leaned in kissing Sherlock softly on the lips. He had been thinking quit a lot about if he should make any advances tonight. He had felt that it might be safest to let Sherlock take all the initiatives. But he dared one kiss, not letting it turn into something else. They both sighed as John ended the kiss, smiling at each other. Sherlock had just leaned in to kiss John again when his phone rang. Sherlock answered it, looking irritated.   
What is it Lestrade, I’m busy. Sherlock started pacing as he listened. John thought that Lestrade was the name of the police officer Sherlock worked with. He couldn’t guess what the conversation was about, Sherlock didn’t say anything.   
I got the adress, I’ll see if I can make it. Sherlock hung up and turned around to face John.   
That was the police officer I told you about, he need help with another case. Sherlock seemed torn. John could easily see that he was eager to go, to work. But the fact that Sherlock hadn’t just kick John out and left told him that Sherlock also wanted to stay.   
You want to go, John said quietly.   
I do, but… Sherlock broke of, running his fingers through his hair. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking.   
You’re a doctor, he said slowly eying John.   
Actually you’re an army doctor. John stod silent, not following Sherlock’s line of thought. This wasn’t news to Sherlock.   
Yes, he said when Sherlock didn’t say anything.   
Any good? John decided not to get offended.   
Very good, he answered instead.   
You’ve seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths. Sherlock walked slowly towards John. He still couldn’t figure out what Sherlock was up to, he knew all this.   
Yes.   
A bit of trouble as well   
Yes, enough for a lifetime, far too much. John’s throat actually thickened up, when he spoke. Memories came flooding back to him.   
Do you wanna see some more? Sherlock asked. It was only then John understood what Sherlock was saying. He was asking John to come along. He wanted John to come with him to the crimescene. It would mean seeing another horrible death. It would be a risk, maybe it would trigger his ptsd again. Even though there was many reasons for him to say no (One of them being that if he said no, they might stay in the apartment and snog for the rest of the evening), there was no hesitation when he answered.   
Oh, god yes.


End file.
